Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Stanley almost liked Ramage. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly.
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